The Laird's Kidnapped Bride (5 page)

If he hadn’t heard about her engagement to another man, he would not have kidnapped her. Though he hadn’t wanted to marry for another few years, he was now eager to settle down and raise a family with her. Nothing would stop him honoring the contract his father had made all those years ago. What he didn’t understand is why she hadn’t known about it. Had her father kept having her marrying someone else secret from her? Aye, it seemed he had, since she’d been betrothed to someone else. Just thinking about set a match to his temper. She belonged solely to him and no other man had the right to think he could take her from him. Not even her own father. There would be a time when he confronted the man and would then demand an explanation.

For now, time was on his side, and all he had to do was find his obstinate, wayward bride. He was bound and determined to find the sneaky wee lass, and once he did, he would show her proof that she was promised to him. He could only hope she would honor the contract made. Not that it would make any difference if she didn’t; he would still make her his wife. She’d grow to accept her future here with him. It might take a little while, but he would see that she was content and happy with her life. First, though, he had to discover where she was hiding. Sitting and wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to do anything to help matters. Surging to his feet, he strode hurriedly across the hall and bounded up the staircase, intent on searching every chamber upstairs again.

Chapter Three

Lark groaned in frustration from underneath her hiding place when those loud, booted footsteps once more came closer. She winced when another door was slammed shut. Why didn’t the stinking oaf just give up? Four times a day and three times at night, the same scenario played out. She hadn’t even been able to sneak down to the kitchen to filch something to eat, and now the fruit she had originally pilfered was gone. She was starving and dying of thirst. Tonight, she would have to try to escape. It was her only chance, because if she didn’t, she would probably die up here. She held her breath when the door was thrust open and those clomping footsteps stopped so close to her hiding place. “The wee lass must somewhere. ‘Tis foolish of her to keep herself hidden, she must be fair starved by now. Big John, if ye were a wee lass, where would you hide?”

When the mattress dipped, she was too terrified to even breathe and could only listen to the conversation, praying that these two smelly morons would leave quickly. “Well, Laird, ‘tis a fact we have looked under every surface, behind every curtain and in every nook and cranny. We’ve been through the castle with a finetooth comb and I canna think of anywhere else to search.” “Mmm, ye speak the truth.” Cameron scratched the side of his head and gazed down at the floor thoughtfully. Something was compelling him to keep searching the chambers upstairs. He rose to his feet and strode out the door. “She’s here somewhere, Big John. ‘Tis been four days now, she’ll be hungry and thirsty. She willna be able to last much longer.” Only when she heard the door slam shut did she let herself draw in a breath. The damn reeking lackwit was right. She couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

Tonight, she had no other option but to sneak out of the castle and find a way to leave this horrid place. Not daring to come out of hiding, she lay there trying to think how she could escape without being caught. There was no way she could possibly just stroll out the gates; besides, they were locked and guarded. Perhaps there might be a way out around the cottages. It was her only hope, and with any luck, she could make her way there under the cover of darkness, undetected. She would have to wait until it was very late and everyone would be sleeping. If she kept to the shadows, she might just stand a chance. Hope rose up inside her and she prayed she would succeed.

She had plenty of money, but she needed food and something to drink if she was going to get away. She bit her lip in worry. It was going to be difficult, if not impossible. She could only hope her raid on the kitchen would be successful. Days ago she had made the decision that if she ever managed to escape this horrid place, she was going to find an inn and stay there for a few weeks before she returned home. She was even more determined now that she wasn’t going to be bullied into marrying anyone, and
especially
not Sir Walter, no matter how much it angered her father. She wasn’t some brood mare he could sell to the highest bidder, she thought in disgust.

If and when she married, she would choose her own husband, thank ye very much, and after this fiasco, she definitely wasn’t going to be in any hurry to find one. She gave an un-ladylike snort. The two unwanted bridegrooms she already had were enough to turn any woman off the male population for life. Men, she decided, were a curse, and why God had made them, she would never know. They weren’t much good for anything. All they did was cause wars, kill each other, fornicate, drink themselves stupid and make a woman’s life hell. She gave a soft grunt in agreement, aye, they certainly didn’t have any redeeming qualities as far as she could see.

Time dragged on and the waiting was making her daft, but finally it was time to leave. She straightened the pillows, not wanting to give away her hiding place in case she might need it again, although she prayed fervently that she wouldn’t. She crept across the floor to the door, and, holding her breath, she opened it slightly and peeked out into the darkened hallway. Seeing and hearing no movement, she pushed it even further. On silent feet, she stepped out of the room and pressed herself against the stone-cold wall. Her heart hammered loudly in her ears and it was so dark she could barely see anything. She waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust. She had only one chance and she must not fail, her whole life was at risk and she could not let herself be recaptured.

Stop dilly-dallying, ye
nitwit,
she reprimanded herself. Straightening up, she tiptoed along the darkened hallway, keeping her hand sliding along the wall as guidance. She froze when she thought she detected a sound behind her. Her chest ached when her heart pounded against it so hard in fear. She narrowed her eyes and glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch some sort of movement, but when long seconds passed and she couldn’t discover anything, turned her head back around and continued on her way. It was slow going, but finally she reached the door leading to the stairs down to the kitchen. She was just about to reach out and open it when a steel band wrapped around her and lifted her off her feet. She let out a loud scream of terror and disappointment.

Barely able to draw breath into her lungs, she went limp against the hard, powerful body pressed tightly against her own. Now that she’d been caught, misery dragged her down over her failure to escape. She wanted to weep in frustration and rant in rage. This had most certainly not been part of her plan, and having been defeated, she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do now. Her mind was too full of regret to come up with ideas, and so for the moment, the fight for freedom had completely drained out of her. Her head sagged forward and her eyes misted with despair.

***

Frustrated, Cameron paced his salon, continuously combing his fingers through his hair as he tried to think where the wee lass was hiding. His concern for her was growing by the hour, knowing that she must be fair starved by now. Was marrying him so offensive she would rather die? Surely he wasn’t that unpleasant. After all, most women didn’t find anything wrong with him; in fact, he never had any trouble seducing them into bed. They usually climbed in eagerly and left so well satisfied they came back for more. He didn’t like the idea that his little bride had no liking for him. Ah, well, he was positive that once they were wed, it wouldn’t take him long to have her changing her mind. He chuckled that once he had her naked and in his arms, she would be happy as a well-fed kitten.

However, first he had to find her. He stopped pacing and scratched the side of his head thoughtfully. Mentally he recounted all the places he had searched for her. Where in the blasted hell could she be hiding? She had to be in one of the bedrooms, but where and which one? There was no way she could have gotten past anyone in the hall without being seen, or anyone in the kitchen, for that matter. She had to be here upstairs somewhere. By now she was hungry and thirsty, growing desperate. His eyes narrowed, and swinging around, he moved through the chamber blowing out the candles, plunging it into shadows, only the fire casting a soft light in the room.

On silent, bare feet he strode to the door. Opening it, he stepped out and eased it closed behind him. He had just taken half a dozen steps when he heard the sound of the latch being lifted, so he froze where he was. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he saw a shadowy form slip into the hallway.
Well I’ll be damned. The little minx was being driven out of hiding by her thirst and hunger after all.
He’d been right all along. Pleased with himself, he slowly and soundlessly followed behind her. He halted and held his breath when she stopped and spun her head to look back. Long tense moments passed before she turned away. He moved more quickly, and just before she reached the door leading down to the kitchen, he caught her up in his arms.

His ears rang from her loud shriek, and holding her tightly against him, he retraced his steps, swung open the door and snapped it shut behind him. He carried her over to the settee and placed her down on her feet before he let her go. When she swiveled round to face him, he placed a hand on her shoulder, pushed her gently and watched her topple backwards onto the sofa. “Stay,” he ordered. Moving away, he picked up a tallow, bent over and lit it in the flames of the fire. He went around and lit the other candles before he crossed back to her once more. Bracing his hands on his hips, he stared down at her upturned, angry face. “Ye’ve been a foolish lass, and I should spank ye for making me worry so much.”

“Oh, go to hell, ye bloody miscreant.” She snapped back.

A shake of his head in exasperation. “Ye have to accept the fact, lass, that ye’re going to be my wife and nae a thing will change it.” He could tell by the angle of her chin and the flames burning in her eyes she was going to be as stubborn as all get out.

She jumped to her feet and waved a fist under his nose. “Like hell I will, ye filthy moron. Ye’re lying! There is no contract, and even if there was, I
still
wouldn’t wed ye.”

Impatiently he shoved her back down on the settee. Irritated, he strode over to the bureau, opened a drawer and lifted out a document. He returned to stand in front of her and held it out. “If ‘tis proof ye need, woman, here ‘tis.” He hoped he wasn’t going to be disappointed, but he knew he would be if she weren’t honorable.

Lark reluctantly took it and unrolled the document with shaking hands. Hesitantly she read it, and when she finished, it fluttered to the floor at her feet. With wide eyes filled with horror and disbelief, she stared up at the stinking brute. “I can’t…why didn’t…why wasn’t…”

“You canna believe it. Well, ‘tis true. Why dinna ye ken, I canna say. Why weren’t ye told, ye’ll have to ask yer father that, lassie.” Overall, he was quite amused by her reaction, folding his arms over his chest and waiting to hear what she would say next.

In disbelief, she rubbed her brow. “This is a horrendous nightmare,” she whispered. She couldn’t believe her own father had kept the contract a secret from her all these years. “I canna understand why he never told me,” she moaned softly. It humiliated her to know that her father had had no intension of honoring it. His dishonesty shamed her.

Just able to catch her words, he felt sorry for her. “Aye, t’was wrong of him, and ‘tis a fact he has been dishonest in his dealings.” She looked so woebegone that he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. However, he didn’t think she would appreciate such a gesture from him at the moment. All being well, one day soon she would have a change of heart and find comfort in his arms.

Color swept up her face and she clenched her hands on her lap. “Ye dinna have to rub it in. I ken it already, ye flea-bitten rogue.”

‘Yer sweet compliments will fair turn my head, lass,” he shot back, laughter lacing his voice. He crossed the room to where the chests were lined up against the wall. Bending over, he lifted the lid on one. He extracted four long lengths of cloth before returning to her side. Catching her arm, he started to knot one around her wrist. “’Tis fair starving ye must be.” He tied the strip of material to the leg of the chair and he ignored her struggles as he proceeded to do likewise with her other arm.

“What in the blasted hell are ye doing?” She shouted as she tried to tear herself free.

“I’m going to the kitchen to fetch something for ye to eat and drink. I have nae wish for ye to disappear on me again.” He answered as he finished binding her ankles and stood up. If looks could kill, he would be stone dead at her feet. “Just relax and I’ll be back presently.”

“Ye misbegotten goat, ye’ll pay for this!” She shouted as she struggled against her ties.

“I’ll look forward to it, lass. ‘Tis a pity ‘tis so late, because ye’re in dire need of a bath. Ye’re fare reeking, lass.” Laughing at her outraged squeal, he spun around, swept up a brace of candles and left her sputtering out insulting names and threats. He wondered as he went down to the kitchen if she would ever run out of colorful insults to call him. He chuckled. She certainly had a cutting way of name-calling; most men would have beaten her by now, but he enjoyed her outlandish invectives. It was a fact that they were certainly going to have a lively life, not just in bed but out of it as well.

After loading the tray with a cold repast, he returned upstairs to his chamber and, with the back of his heel, closed the door. He strode over to where she sat drilling him with eyes burning with rage. “Here ye are, my little dove,” he teased as he placed the food down on the low table. He quickly went about freeing her hands and feet. He had just risen to stand when she flew at him, and it took him a few seconds to catch her beating fists and clawing nails. “Now, now, sweetling, none of that. Ye’ll wear yerself out if ye continue.” He shoved her none too gently back on the settee. “Eat,” he ordered in a tone not to be argued with.

Arms folded over his chest, he stood over her until she started eating. “After ye have satisfied yer appetite and quenched yer thirst, ye can wash at the basin in the bedchamber, then we will go to bed.” It was the part he was most looking forward to. He could barely wait to have all her sweet-smelling, silken flesh plastered intimately against his own.

She glared up at him with horrified eyes. “Ye best nae be suggesting what I think ye are, ye blithering twit.”

Lips stretched in a tight line so he wouldn’t laugh, he gave a nod of his head. “Aye, I am. From now on, ye will be sharing my bed.” Eagerly he waited for her explosive reply, because he just knew she was not going to be agreeable.

“Nay, never. Ye canna force me.” She shouted in desperation.

“I can and ye will. Now if ye have finished, ’tis time to sleep.” When she just sat there defiantly, he let out a heavy sigh of resignation. Without giving her time to react, he bent over and swept her up in his arms. He ignored the little fists pummeling his chest as he once more moved around the room, this time extinguishing the candles. He strode into the bedchamber and dropped her on the feather mattress, ignoring her outraged shriek. “Make quick work of preparing for bed, lass. ‘Tis tired I am after having little sleep for worrying about ye these past nights.”